


Out of Time

by Treasure_of_the_Rudras



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treasure_of_the_Rudras/pseuds/Treasure_of_the_Rudras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For me, The Winter Soldier was a story about adapting to circumstances and how external challenges can change us as individuals. I tried to take that tack with Steve Rogers and Bucky.</p><p>This takes place after the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Time

_"The world has changed. And none of us can go back. All we can do is our best. And sometimes the best that we can do is to start over." ___

Riding a motorcycle was always a very immediate experience, even as a passenger, and one that Bucky found he relished. Watching the scenery fly by, tilting his body with Steve's as he took the turns, the feelings of loneliness and self-hatred that otherwise clouded his brain would abate for the moment.

He supposed he could pretend that the violent events between himself and Steve had never happened. Steve certainly seemed capable of this. Despite Bucky's attempts to kill him, despite his having gone missing for so many years, he treated his friend no differently than he always had. There was the care Steve showed for him, the smile, his constant, warm presence. There were the old-timey stories he shared with Bucky with the intent of helping him remember the life he had lost.

And there were many stories. Hard times with little money or food where all they had was each other. Steve's asthma and physical weakness. In those days, the strength of his soul had been in profound contrast to the tiny vessel of his body. It was a strength that drew Bucky to him, to protect him above all else. Then the tables had been turned, and it was Steve rescuing him from Hydra's camp, protecting him. They looked out for one another. It was just how things always were.

Steve talked about those times, his very voice a comfort. If Bucky closed his eyes, he could for a moment almost believe that it was all still the same. But that was difficult, when his memory of his old life existed only as confusing and elusive shattered slivers. Even if he could remember everything, he, Bucky, was irrevocably changed. Everything was irrevocably changed...

Steve noticed Bucky clinging even more tightly to his back and around his stomach. It was time to go home.

* * *

"How do you manage it?" Bucky sat at the small dinner table at his and Steve's apartment, drinking coffee with brandy in it. It was too much brandy, but he found he hardly noticed it anymore. Something to do with the experiments. Getting drunk was a whole lot harder than it should have been.

"Manage what?" Steve turned around from the record player. Pleasant, slow 1940's era music wafted through the room. Although he'd listened to a whirlwind of new music since his awakening, this was what he came back to.

"How do you..." Bucky felt his throat knotting up. He shook his head, and got out brokenly, "I tried to kill you."

Steve picked up his own coffee and sat at the table next to Bucky. His hand rested across Bucky's back.

"I appreciate what you're doing, Steve. Sometimes, I can remember." Bucky took a shuddering breath and then nodded. "Things come back to me in bits and pieces. The letters you show me... The house we lived in..."

Steve leaned towards the flimsy curtain of ragged brown hair that framed Bucky's face. He said nothing. Bucky didn't speak as much as he used to. Interrupting him when he did talk tended to quickly put him in a black mood.

"Things can't go back to how they were, Steve. I'm not the friend you remember. That life is just a memory. Less than a memory."

Bucky chanced a look up into Steve's cornflower blue eyes. How would he react to being told he might never have his old friend back? That things might never be the way they once were? He half-expected Steve to stubbornly disagree, to tell him that his memories would surely come back given enough patience and time.

Steve's reaction was not what he expected. Steve lowered his eyes for a long moment, then looked deeply into Bucky's face.

"You're right, Bucky," he said. Bucky straightened slightly, and blinked.

"Things can't go back to how they used to be. The past is the past. The world's changed, you've changed, I've changed." Steve took Bucky's hand gently, closing his fingers around. "But the future can be whatever you want it to be."

Bucky sat in silence. His fingers slowly closed around the hand that held them.

_The future can be whatever I want it to be..._

Bucky leaned forward. Steve's lips were smooth and pink, and his eyelashes brushed lightly against Bucky's cheek as they kissed.

Bucky's voice came hoarsely, as if he were awakening from a long sleep. "I am free."

Steve placed his hands around the sides of Bucky's face, touched his forehead against his friend's. "We are free, and we are together." His voice was hushed, but he spoke with intensity and his eyes were as bright as two stars. "And nothing's going to take you away from me ever again."

Bucky began to shudder. He noticed in a detached fashion that hot tears were running from his eyes and dropping onto his hand, onto his coffee. He replied hoarsely, "I'm a remnant of a person, I'm shattered. Maybe I'm no longer even a person anymore. I'm a thing. A monster."

Steve mouthed soft kisses along the side of his childhood friend's face. "You're being a moody punk. You never looked better."

"You're lying." Bucky smirked. Try as he might, he found he was unable to control his tears.

Steve's mouth trailed over Bucky's face, picking the salty droplets up with the lightest of touches. "Idiot," Bucky whispered tiredly, but he was relaxing into the touches, into the scent and warmth and presence of the other man's body.

Steve and his stories were like something out of a half-remembered dream, but the dream was better than anything else Bucky knew. He could make a future out of that dream, he realized now. Whatever he thought of himself, whatever he was, Steve accepted him with all of his flaws.

Bucky felt as if a door had opened for him, and he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: <http://rudras-and-asuras.tumblr.com>


End file.
